Alex Rider: A Mary Sue Parody
by penguinlover17
Summary: Alan Blunt wants another fourteen year old spy. This time, she's a girl... and a Mary Sue. Oh, how is poor Alex going to get out of this one? Inspired from Amitai's 'In Perpetua'.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Alex Rider.**

"Alex, for your next mission, we have decided to give you a partner," Blunt informed the fair-haired boy. "We thought that perhaps you might be a little stressed –"

"That's certainly a first," Alex muttered. Blunt paused and gave him a look of vague disapproval before continuing. Another surprise. Alex hadn't known that the cardboard creases on Blunt's gray face could actually display emotion.

"Thankfully, found another person of your age," he said. "She even shares a few of your abilities: proficient in martial arts, fluent in plenty of languages." He coughed. "Calm demeanor…"

Alex was amused an irritated at the same time. Did Blunt really think he was _that_ stupid? "So you're saying that you're sending me on a mission with an untrained agent to test her abilities." He hadn't missed it when Blunt had said 'she'.

Alex sighed, mentally rolling his eyes. In reality, the dark – almost chocolatey – brown orbs didn't even twitch. They could have at least told him the truth.

The woman standing next to Blunt's desk frowned. She had a round, rather potato-shaped head and a pudding-bowl haircut. She reached up and tucked a few loose dark strands behind her ears. Alex was beginning to think that this habit was one of her ways to hide anxiety. But why would she be anxious? It wasn't as if Alex was going to refuse the mission; he couldn't, or else MI6 would deport his guardian, Jack Starbright, back to the United States.

Of course, Alex had much more things to worry about than Jack's Visa. There was SCORPIA, MI6 double-agents (that is, traitors, but this was the milder term), random civilians who didn't have a clue what was going on… But that small flicker in the woman's dark eyes had him worried. Alex wasn't always fully briefed about his missions by the heads of the MI6 Spec Ops department, and that had often led to many hurdles. Many a time, Alex had felt like quitting out of spite and frustration, to never return again, but his conscience was so damnably present, he had to finish his assignment.

Mrs. Jones, the woman, unwrapped a peppermint. "Well, yes, Alex. You're right. We would like to examine her, to see if she has enough potential to become a member of the MI6 like you. Unfortunately, we don't exactly have an emergency at the moment…"

"Then how are you going to test her?" Alex asked, bewildered. "And what do you mean, like me? I'm not really an agent. I don't get paid or rest periods…"

Blunt leaned forward. Negotiating was one of his specialties. "You could have those advantages. If you did us a small favor.

"You see, as Mrs. Jones explained, there is not exactly a national crisis on our hands at this time. Well," he amended, "not one which can be resolved by children. Even if there was a problem, we would be slightly hesitant about sending her—"

"That's sexism!" Alex exclaimed. "You can't seriously be telling me that you won't allow her to go on field duty because she's a girl, that's not—"

"That's _not_ why," Blunt interrupted. "We don't know if she's good enough, I told you. I had no qualms about sending you to Herod Sayle because I saw you leap from a fifteen-story building to break into your uncle's office _simply because you were curious._ I have no data about her other than she likes literature, Jane Austen novels especially, and that she's on the hockey team at her school, Bennett's Academy for Young Ladies."

"We just want you to, ah, set up a mission for her, Alex," Mrs. Jones said, having finished her peppermint. "Her parents worked with Crawley; they died in a car crash a few days ago. The funeral will take place soon."

"A real car crash?" Alex asked. "Or was this one a cover-up, too?"

Mrs. Jones gave him a look. Alex quieted. "Anyway," she continued, reaching into her black purse and pulling out a Peppermint Pattie, "after the funeral, we'll be sending her to Brookland, where she'll mysteriously uncover a mysterious plot."

"How on earth am I going to set up a 'mysterious plot' at my school?" Alex demanded. "I don't have the time; there's make-up work for all the time I've missed and football games, not to mention the drama club!"

"In a few weeks, your school will be closed due to the holidays, Alex," Blunt said. Alex flushed slightly; he had forgotten this fact. "You can leave a few notes promising threats to wreak havoc on the innocent people of London for her to discover. Perhaps you can even set a deadline. She'll be investigating during the break."

"Alright. When do I meet her?"

"You'll meet her after we collect her from her parents' funeral," Mrs. Jones said. "Thank you, Alex. You may leave."

As Alex turned round, he heard one more thing as the door shut behind him. It was Blunt's voice. "When did he join drama club? It's not as if he needs the acting lessons anyway…"

* * *

When Alex had left, Mrs. Jones turned to Blunt, sucking the dark chocolate off her index finger and thumb (honestly, York's Peppermint Patties were _delicious_ ). "Alan, be honest. You don't want this girl just for her abilities. Spit it out."

"Well," Blunt hedged, "we already have Alex as one of the youngest agent of the MI6, and he turned out better than half the adult agents combined. Imagine two of them!"

This was as close to excited that Alan Blunt had ever been. His gray eyes were narrowed in thought, his tight, pale lips pursed. "There would be fewer casualties, and more work done. And," he added, "less paperwork, unless, of course, the girl got herself arrested."

"Why would the girl get arrested? If I were a police officer, I'd go after Alex!"

"Oh, do you honestly think Alex would get himself caught be a mere policeman? He's much more skilled than the whole London police squad, and twice as clever. Moreover, he has the perfect cover. Who would accuse a fourteen year old boy of being a spy?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mrs. Jones snapped. "Maybe Herod Sayle, Dr. Grief—"

"Grief is dead," Blunt interjected.

Mrs. Jones continued as if she had never been interrupted. "– Alexei Sarov, Damien Cray, SCORPIA, and God only knows how many more people!"

Blunt had to admit that this was true.

There was a moment of silence.

Mrs. Jones broke it. "Alan…"

"Yes, Tulip?"

"What if the girl isn't up to standards?"

"…Then we may have a problem."


	2. Chapter 2

Sapphire Carlie Thompson looked in the mirror as she coiffed her already immaculate blonde hair. Her outfit lay on her purple silk bedspread (such a dark color; it had some depth and ambience and it was associated with all things dark and gothic. Perfect for the occasion): a short but not _too_ short black cashmere dress, flesh-toned stockings, black Louboutins.

Her parents had died just a few days ago in a horrible car crash. They were on their way home from a long business trip all the way in Portugal. Sapphire didn't know _why_ they left to go to such an undeveloped country*. She had looked it up on her computer and while it was certainly a beautiful place, the people weren't educated and couldn't even speak English!

Sapphire shuddered, imagining how it was like to be _normal._ The word was a foreign concept. And Sapphire intended it to remain that way.

She was proficient in four languages: English (obviously), Japanese, French, and Spanish. She was a master in the art of canvas painting. Whenever she went to the studio, she always made sure she had her extremely expensive brushes, carnation pink tones, and that peach hue to paint roses, which were her favorite flower. Sapphire took Capoeira lessons (she started at seven years old), and her teacher always said that she was one of the best individuals he had ever had the privilege of teaching.

Unfortunately, at the moment, Sapphire was not getting ready to go to any of these activities. She was leaving for her parents' funeral in a few moments. She had to look her best for the audience: saddened, humble, but valiant; she wanted people to see that she was _strong,_ that she wasn't some weak, pathetic toady, and that she could take on the whole world.

Of course, she wouldn't have to be pretending if her parents hadn't gone to Portugal, which had been the reason for their deaths in the first place. Perhaps, if they had stayed with her, they would still have been alive. Or if they had taken her with them, she could have grabbed the steering wheel of the car from her clearly inept father and saved all three of their lives; after that, her parents would have been forever grateful. They would always shower her with compliments (which she deserved – she was perfect!) and coddle her lovingly.

For now, Sapphire was left applying foundation (not too much, mind you – she had a golden skin tone from spending long hours in the sun playing hockey) and searching for her mascara. At least her parents had gotten her that glossy pink lipstick she had wanted before they left. Oh, well.

* * *

Agent Murphy stared at the blonde girl through the window of her room located in a secluded mansion. She was dancing to some MTV music, not looking the least bit saddened by the loss of her mother and father. She took out a lipstick and started dabbing it on her pouty mouth, her feet tapping in time with the music.

He took a deep breath. Maybe Blunt and Jones were wrong this time… This girl _clearly_ wasn't spy material…

Murphy shook his head. The heads of the MI6 were _never_ wrong; just look at the soldiers of the SAS at Brecon Beacons. They had thought _Alex Rider_ was a snide, rich brat who couldn't take a little old lady on. How wrong they were.

The boy had been quiet at the training camp, Murphy had been told, but adept and he hadn't complained once. By keeping quiet, he was hiding his strengths.

Surely, this what the girl was doing. Yes, she was clearly disillusioning him by pretending not to be observant; if she had figured out her parents' occupations at three years old (Blunt had informed him of this), there was no way she hadn't noticed him.

Finally having convinced himself, Murphy made the call. "Yes, sir, I think she's the one…"

* * *

Sapphire reached the bottom of the long, curving staircase. She looked outside. Her chauffeur, George, was waiting outside for her.

Her wide green eyes, shining with tears, blinked as the stared up at the sky from the window. She and her parents had not been all that close, but she would miss them. She could manage on her own.

She was responsible, for a fourteen year old. She could cook a fairly good pasta and scrambled eggs. She would get money from the child support services and she would complete her education without failure (like everything else she did). She would give herself time to heal from this unspeakable loss; surely, in the future, some handsome, charming man would come to her aid and save her from this never-ending depression. He would fix her with soft touches, gentle words, and sweet kisses. He would be wealthy, but not arrogant. He would be funny, but not mean. And, of course, he would have to be as smart and talented as her.

She looked outside at George who had a frankly repulsed expression on his face as he looked towards the mansion. Sapphire knew, of course, that George had been in love with her mother, and had hated her father for stealing her away from him. Sapphire looked just like her mother, but she had her Father's eyes, so George was probably bracing himself to see the spitting image of the woman he had once loved, only to look in the eyes of the man he had loathed.

Sapphire vowed that she would be kind to him. She would find another woman to make him better and more friendly-looking, because, frankly, at the moment, he looked like a hard-hearted bastard. His gray eyes were chipped and cold, and he looked towards the giant building with undisguised hatred. Impatient, he checked his aluminum watch (Sapphire knew it was aluminum, just like she knew everything).

 _He must be getting anxious_ , she thought. _How sweet._ Sapphire took one more look around her and stepped outside of the mansion, her fingers departing the lovingly furnished wood with an elegant curve. Finally, she looked at the cloudy-gray sky one more time as a single tear rolled down her elevated cheekbone before she stepped into the black Aston Martin.

* * *

 ***I have nothing against the Portuguese or Portugal; only Sapphire seems to have problems.**


	3. Chapter 3

At the funeral, Sapphire Carlie Thompson looked beautiful. Her blonde curls drifted down her back in soft ringlets. Her bright green eyes were dewy, but tears did not fall from them. Her rosebud mouth was trembling, but her lips were pursed; some people speculated that this was done to keep from crying, but it was only really done to emphasize the fullness of her mouth.

The girl's head was held high, her pointed chin pushed up in the air. She must have looked heroic in the guests' eyes: a brave fourteen year old girl who mourned the loss of her dearly loved parents (who had not been acknowledged in such an affectionate way until their untimely deaths), but a strong, brave soul who persevered even in the darkest times.

If only she knew what the people were really thinking.

* * *

Agent Murphy stared at the spectacle that the girl was making of herself. Sapphire Clarisse Whatever-Her-Name-Was was thrusting her face – almost maniacally – upward, as if she was trying to see all the celestial bodies the universe had to offer without a microscope. Or she could have been looking for a bathroom; perhaps she was on her period and this was her way – a strange way, no doubt – of trying to hide it. Murphy could never be sure of such things. Besides, the ladies' restroom was definitely not located behind the clouds.

He sipped his coffee, trying to look inconspicuous. Immediately, he kept himself from wincing. This wasn't coffee; it was bile. A little girl, standing not so far away from him whispered, "Mummy, is Sapphy going to be sick? She's making that face and her skin is turning almost white…"

Murphy let out a loud snort of laughter, but immediately masked it over a sniffle into his handkerchief. The child's comment had been correct; Sapphire's face was paling from the force with which she jerked her nose up. She was pushing her muscles quite hard for some reason. Perhaps that little display with the music and the dancing was simply a way of dealing with grief. And now she was, ah… dealing with it another way… Yes, that must be it.

Murphy was assured that this girl would make an excellent partner for Alex Rider. According to her file, she was fluent in several languages and she knew how to perform a martial art. She was in a hockey team at her school, so presumably, she could hit.

Murphy had seen very little proof of these facts, but judging by the girl's slim figure (it was hard not to notice it in such a clingy dress), she kept herself fit. Hopefully, she would be adept in those languages she was supposed to know.

He sighed. Yes, Agent Rider would have a very fine partner indeed.

Agent Murphy took another sip of the coffee, forgetting its horrid taste, only to end up spitting it back into the Styrofoam cup he was holding in his left hand.

* * *

Sapphire quickly scanned the arrangement of grievers, trying to find a few people she actually knew. She hadn't known many of her parents' friends; they were such _boring_ people, it was hard to believe they'd had any friends at all!

Her eyes caught on a man who was rather timidly sipping his coffee. His hair was a sandy shade of blonde, his eyes a pale green. He had a tall, lean frame, rather athletic. By the look of his suit, he knew how to dress, and did it often. He grimaced as he swallowed his drink. Inwardly, Sapphire frowned. What was wrong with the coffee? Was it not to his liking? She had found it perfectly alright.

Alright, she let herself think it: he was handsome. Perhaps he'd heal her broken heart and help her get over her tragic past. How convenient that he appear so quickly!

She approached him, saying, "Excuse me, sir, I noticed that the coffee is not quite to your liking. May I get you something else?"

"Oh, no!" he shook his head. "I couldn't possibly! Erm, I actually needed -"

"You look rather nervous," Sapphire said gently. "Perhaps you're afraid I'll bite you?" she added, smiling dryly.

"No," the man said. "You see, I used to work with your parents. My name's Murphy. Walter Murphy. You see -" Sapphire noticed how the man, now dubbed Walter, kept saying 'You see' repeatedly. "Our superiors want someone to come in and collect their belongings. If you would..."

"Oh, of course," she replied reassuringly; inside, she was disappointed. This man was much too old for her! And she needed someone more charming... "When is a good time?"

"Now is as good a time as any," Walter said. "Would you like to come to the office to collect their items in, say, ten minutes?"

"Definitely," Sapphire said, still gently flirting; it wouldn't hurt to make a little impression. She fluttered her lashes at him a little, narrowing her eyes seductively.

"Alright, I'll get the car ready, then," Walter said, and then he turned and was lost in the crowd.

* * *

Ms. Thompson's medical file hadn't mentioned any rapid eye spasms, Agent Murphy mused. That could be a serious flaw in combat. In the bulletproof glass of his black Mercedes, he examined his reflection. At the end of their little conversation, her eyes had suddenly narrowed into catlike slits. Perhaps there was something on his face...


	4. Chapter 4

The ride to the Royal and General Bank was silent. The journey would take perhaps another hour. Walter had turned on some classical music, Clair de Lune; Sapphire was pleased. It was rare to find a man with such good sense in music. He was like an older, less attractive version of Edward Cullen!* Sapphire sighed to herself dreamily. It was _so_ romantic! If only her Prince Charming would come sooner!

Agent Murphy looked at the rear-view mirror in front of him. Miss He-Couldn't-Remember-Her-Surname was looking out the window. Her eyes were glassy. Perhaps she was daydreaming?

He cleared his throat. "Miss. We're here."

She blinked, seemingly startled. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Murphy - I mean, Walter." He preferred not to be addressed by his surname and told her so. She blinked again. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Do forgive me!"

"It's alright, Miss. You couldn't have known."

"Oh, don't call me 'Miss'! My name is Sapphire. You know, like the precious stone?" He did know. "Most people don't even know what a sapphire is, did you know that? Actually, every time I've given out my name, they've asked me to repeat it! Except for you, of course, Walter. Poor, poor, uneducated things..."

As she prattled on, Agent Murphy prayed that Alex Rider would use that training that SCORPIA had given him when he met the girl.

* * *

"The Royal and General Bank doesn't seem very royal or general, does it?" Sapphire said, attempting (and failing, but she didn't know that) to be witty. "It's rather plain, if you ask me."

It sounded like Walter muttered, "No one did," under his breath. She shook her head. Surely, she misheard that. No one talked to her like that, and Walter seemed to be such a courteous soul; Sapphire couldn't imagine him saying that to anybody. Least of all her.

The building looked to be about four stories tall, and, as she had remarked earlier, seemed quite drab. The exterior surface was greige - she had learned that word from Pinterest* - and plain. There were no decorations. The windows were long, but thin, quite sophisticated. But no one could see inside the building; there were mauve curtains in front of every window! It was almost as if the people inside were afraid to look outside.

The doors were made of polished wood - ash, perhaps? - but she didn't know what kind. It wasn't as if she adored carpentry, but she was looking into it, of course. And if she took it up, she would master it effortlessly. Just like always.

* * *

Alex idly wondered what this new partner of his would be like. She would be smart - that was a given, really, if you worked with the MI6. All agents had to be reasonably intelligent, if not, more so. Would she be funny? Witty? Sarcastic, as he was?

Or would she be snobby, as if she thought she was above the whole world? Arrogant? Shy?

According to her file, she was reasonably cheerful (the file included report cards, and therefore teachers' comments), but 'sometimes absentminded', as her English teacher had written. The girl - Sapphire Carlie Thompson - enjoyed classical and modern music. An eclectic girl. She was particularly fond of Jane Austen novels like _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Sense and Sensibility._ She had borrowed _Tess of the d'Urbervilles_ countless times from the school library and seemed to have no lack of friends. She was skilled in painting, but utterly rubbish at pottery. She was athletic.

All in all, not too shabby, Alex thought. She couldn't be horrible. They'd probably be friends, like he and Sabina were. Maybe even closer.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

Sapphire stepped out of the elevator on the nineteenth floor of the building - alone. Walter had left her with the secretary behind the desk of the bank - a brunette with gray eyes; not very pretty, rather plain. She had said her name was Katherine.

She knocked at one of the doors in the hallway. She got a response from another door, three doors away: "Come in."

A man was sitting behind a desk in the room. He was wearing a gray suit. He had gray hair, gray eyes, and even a somewhat gray complexion! _He'd look better if he tanned,_ Sapphire thought despairingly. _This_ was the man her parents had worked with?

"Hello, I'm Sapphire -"

"Yes, I know who you are," the man interrupted. His voice was quiet, but crisp: a man used to having his orders obeyed. "Please, sit down." He motioned to a chair in front of the desk. This, too, was gray; it was made of metal, and did not look comfortable in the slightest. Why couldn't she sit down in a leather seat - preferably _brown_ leather - like him?

A woman stood behind Mr. Gray (Sapphire decided to call him that). She was a little pudgy and had dark hair. The scent of mint lingered around her. Whether it was spearmint or peppermint, she couldn't tell. Every one of her clothing items, from her sunglasses to her jacket to her purse - was black.

When she was seated, Mr. Gray spoke. "We've called you here, Miss Thompson, because we want to offer you an opportunity -"

"Wait a minute," Sapphire objected, "I was told that I would collect my parents' belongings..."

"Yes, that," the man replied. "Well, we lied. It was true that your parents worked with us, the Royal and General, but I'm sure that you've figured out that we're not actually a bank. You parents informed me of your guess when you were three years old. That would be about- ten years ago, wouldn't it, Mrs. Jones?"

The woman, now dubbed Mrs. Jones, said, "I'm sure you don't need any confirmation from, Mr. Blunt. But, yes, ten years is about the correct estimate, I'd wager."

Sapphire was befuddled. Her parents had _always_ worked in a bank! Where else could they possibly work? They definitely weren't actors, TV show stars, doctors, or lawyers... And she had discovered that her parents didn't work for a bank when she was three years old?! How could she- _oh._

Now she remembered.

When she had been three years old, Sapphire had seen one too many a James Bond film. But that was only her father's influence. He had always seemed faintly amused while watching the films, and so had her mother; Sapphire had liked to watch her parents like that. For once, they wouldn't be overly formal with each other, and they wouldn't be having that- _blank_ expression on their faces. They always had vague smiles on their faces while watching the infamous spy.

So one day, after a particularly romantic scene with Bond and his Bond Girl of the film, Sapphire had said, "Mummy, don't you think Daddy looks a little like James Bond in his suits? He's just like a spy!"

Both her parents' expressions had suddenly and strangely frozen. Their eyes were open wide, and her father stared down at her with those green, green eyes. He finally spoke. "What do you mean, darling?"

But the little girl hadn't paid attention to the query. "And Mummy is like a younger M. I mean," the three year old had corrected hastily, "she doesn't look like M. But you act like her, Mummy. You - you don't really tell me much about you..."

It had just been an innocent observation, Sapphire reflected. But her parents had thought that she was serious! And they had told this man - Mr. Gray, Mr. Blunt, whatever his name was - about it! Weren't family lives supposed to be _private?_ She was infuriated; had her parents been telling these two strangers about her since she was born? Did they tell her about her fairy princess phase or about how she had an infatuation for Robert Pattinson after the first Twilight movie was released (Sapphire didn't care for Harry Potter; it wasn't romantic enough)? This was humiliating!

"Are you telling me," the girl said slowly, "that my parents were spies?"

"Why, yes," Mrs. Jones said. "They told us that you had guessed..."

"Of course I did!" Sapphire exclaimed indignantly. She couldn't have them thinking other things now, could she? She'd have to put on a facade, one that displayed her brilliance. But she'd have to tone it down a bit - she couldn't have them knowing she was more cunning than both of them combined. "How could I not? There were so many signs..."

She didn't miss the satisfied look that Blunt and Jones exchanged, but she did miss the uncertainty that passed thought Blunt's gray eyes after she didn't elaborate on the aforementioned 'signs'. Jones finally had to ask. "What signs were there, Sapphire?"

"Well, they were always so vague, and seemed to be acting all the time," the girl said. "They were too paranoid as well. They had probably made many enemies, am I correct?"

"No, actually," Blunt frowned. "They were simply in danger because their supervisor, Crawley, had discovered a plot for terrorism in a certain library in London. They could have been kidnapped and held for ransom or to blackmail us, so they took no chances. In actuality, they managed the paperwork of field agents."

Sapphire grimaced; she was so often right. How could this ugly man just show her up like this? _Calm down,_ she coached herself. _You'll show him. You will be the best spy there ever was - imagine that! Sapphire Carlie Thompson, the first ever teenage spy!_

"Which branch is this?" Sapphire asked. "I'm sure it's not an extension of the CIA..."

"MI6," Mrs. Jones informed her simply.

"MI6, like James Bond?"

"Yes, but without the 007." Blunt smiled dryly. "Those movies are quite inaccurate. Spies must remain inconspicuous at all times. They shouldn't arouse suspicion, and they must _never_ give their names away. That line, 'Bond, James Bond', is actual proof, that were James Bond a real man, he wouldn't have been employed by us. Much too violent."

"Erm. Okay," Sapphire said. "But why did you call me here? Now, I'm sure, I don't have to pick up my parents' things... Unless, there are weapons that you'd like to hide..."

"No, we can manage all that by ourselves," Blunt said sleekly. "No, we want you to work for us."

"Me?" Sapphire knew, of course, that they would ask her this. She was so naturally talented at anything she took up, that she'd soon be the best spy of the MI6. "I'd love to! When do I start?" Oh, the she was looking forward to all those elegant dresses, and she couldn't even _imagine_ how amazing the jewelry was going to be...

* * *

Blunt was taken aback by her enthusiasm. She was quite the opposite of Alex. He had been quite reluctant to take up the job, but, in the end, his persuasion techniques had prevailed. Thank the lord for that. "Well, as this is your first mission, you won't be working alone... Agent Rider will be assisting you, and both of you will be going to Brecon Beacons, a military camp for awhile, for training; refresher courses in Rider's case," he told her. "You'll be going tomorrow, so you'd best pack well."

* * *

Sapphire wasn't very happy about the short notice, but she didn't complain; it simply wouldn't do to be fired before she had even started her first mission. This Agent Rider would help her, if he knew what was good for him, and she'd even teach him a thing or two.

"Mr. Blunt, should I show Agent Rider a few martial arts?" Sapphire asked. "It would be immensely helpful, I'm sure, in fighting off enemies, that is, if there is to be any physical combat -"

"Oh, no, Miss Thompson. I assure you, Agent Rider is more than qualified to fight," Blunt said. He looked extremely amused.

"But -" Sapphire tried again.

"Alex," Blunt called, interrupting her _again._ "Please come in now. Miss Thompson is waiting for you."

Behind him, Mrs. Jones said, "That's Agent Rider, Sapphire. Your new partner, for this mission at least."

Already, Sapphire knew: her Prince Charming had arrived.

* * *

Agent Murphy thanked God as he drove away from the Royal and General. He drove to an abandoned parking lot a few miles away. That hour with _Sapphire_ had nearly killed him. He got out of the car, and slowly walked to the center of the parking lot.

The few drops of rain falling from the sky landed on his face as he screamed, "FINALLY! FREEDOM!"

* * *

 ***I actually liked to listen to Clair de Lune before Twilight came out. Just another thing Stephanie Meyer managed to ruin for me. *Sigh***

 ***I do not, in actuality, spend _any_ of my time on Pinterest (not that there's anything wrong with that). I just wanted to use another word instead of 'gray' as Blunt still hadn't met Sapphire at that point in my little story. **


	5. Chapter 5

A man - no, a boy - entered the room. He seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, Sapphire reflected; about the same age as her. He had blonde hair, shaggy (it drooped into his dark eyes), but clean. His face was narrow, but his cheekbones could have been sculpted - they were _that_ perfect. His skin was lightly tanned. He had a small, slightly hard mouth. Surprisingly, his lips were a light shade of pink.

All in all, very, _very_ handsome. So far, he had passed Sapphire's standards. Now, for fitness: his body was lithe and slim, but she could see the muscles below the blazer of his school uniform.

Yes, Sapphire was definitely pleased with her partner.

"Good afternoon," the boy said.

Blunt and Jones reciprocated his greeting. Sapphire just nodded a bit and smiled - shyly, wouldn't want to come on too strong - at him. He smiled back.

"Alright, since everyone is here, I'll start," Blunt said. "Since the past two weeks, our agents' children have gone missing. We assume that a terrorist group, the Illuminati, have kidnapped them to blackmail MI6. We have gathered evidence that most of the kidnappings have occurred around Brookland Comprehensive School - that is Alex's school, Sapphire. We want you to find out what's happening. Sapphire will be a new student, and Alex - we've signed you up for the Welcoming Committee of your school. You'll be 'showing her around'. Take the time to investigate."

Sapphire frowned again. "If the kidnappings have been happening around Alex's school - now, don't be offended, Alex - shouldn't he have noticed?" Perhaps this boy wasn't as impressive as he looked; what a shame...

"Actually, I've been on missions, Sapphire," Alex said. "I'll be getting back to school this Monday. I haven't exactly had the time to notice. And even if I were at school, I wouldn't be able to witness the kidnappings - I'd be in class."

This was all said very politely, so Sapphire gathered he wasn't very angry. But the way he said it - like a teacher explaining to a bunch of Kindergarteners - made her embarrassed. To her mortification, she was flushing; she could feel the heat crawling up her cheeks. Alex caught the humiliated look scrawled upon her features and tried to give her a reassuring smile. Sapphire felt better at once. Handsome, and a gentleman!

Now it was Alex's turn to ask questions. "When do we go to Brecon Beacons?"

Evidently, he'd been - what was the term? - debriefed before her. How unfair. Sapphire pouted silently.

"Tomorrow," Mrs. Jones said. "Alex, you'll be staying with K-Unit again, and Sapphire will be on her own as she'll be the only female at the camp."

"I'll be alone?" The question was filled with despair. "I couldn't possibly - what would I do all the time?"

"Train," Blunt said.

"When I'm not training!"

"Oh, you'll be too exhausted," Alex said cheerfully. "Trust me, it's a feeling I'm well acquainted with."

"So there will be no time for reading, or makeup, or -"

Alex looked faintly disturbed now. "Erm. No, they'll just be training you..."

"What about the eating periods?" Sapphire demanded eagerly. "I'm sure nobody would mind if I read while I ate!"

"If you actually _can_ eat that disgusting slop they call food there," Alex said. Now he sounded resigned.

"What?"

"Oh - er - nothing. So... Brecon Beacons, tomorrow, right?"

"Right," Blunt said.

"So, we'll be leaving now -"

"Yes, now, we want you to get acquainted. Eat lunch at a restaurant or something," Mrs. Jones said. "Talk about your strengths, your weaknesses, your likes and dislikes... We hope you'll work well together."

"Of course," Alex said.

Sapphire wasn't too sure about that now. He seemed a little bipolar. And secretive. But she didn't object. It wouldn't do to offend her partner now; it would make everything much too awkward after she saved his life and he ended up being eternally grateful (so grateful, she hoped, that he'd never let her go. _How romantic..._ ).

Blunt stood up. Good God, even his _tie_ was gray! "This has been a productive afternoon," he said. "Both of you may leave. Remember to pack this evening. Don't bring too many things to the training camp, you'll only be staying there for two days."

At this Alex visibly started. Sapphire was surprised, too. "Only two days of training?" Alex asked. "Last time it was ten days!"

"We're a bit short on time, if you haven't noticed," Mrs. Jones said.

"I didn't mean it _that_ way - it's not enough time for training!"

"Yes, well, Sapphire will have to manage," Mrs. Jones said sleekly. "You may go now, Miss Thompson. We want to ask Alex a few more things about his previous mission."

Was that supposed to mean that Sapphire wasn't to be trusted with her partner's previous missions? Or that she wasn't important enough to learn government secrets (because, really, how could two child agents _not_ be secret)?

Stupid Mrs. Jones. Stupid Blunt. They thought they were _so_ superior, but she'd show them. And she'd get those secrets out of Alex, too.

Sapphire smiled at Alex sweetly, expecting another charming grin in return. Surprisingly, his dark brown irises held a hint of trepidation. _Oh, he's_ so _sweet!_ Sapphire thought. He was obviously nervous because she was undoubtedly his first partner. To put him at ease, she said demurely, "Thank you. Shall I wait for you outside, Alex?"

"No, that's not necessary," Alex said. "There's a Starbucks just round the corner. If you don't mind, could you wait there for me? This debriefing shouldn't take too long, am I correct?" He directed the question towards Blunt and Jones.

When they confirmed the answer, Sapphire said, "Of course I won't mind. See you, then." She gave him her sweetest smile and left, making sure to swing her hips a bit.

Yes, Prince Charming was definitely interested. Even if he was a little strange. She'd help him fix that with a little romance. And, as everyone knows (or so Sapphire thought) looks are the most important aspect of starting a relationship. It wouldn't hurt to freshen up a bit, would it?

* * *

"'Kidnappings?'" Alex asked dryly.

"We gave the story to her because you hadn't thought of one yet," Blunt said. "Besides, you wouldn't have had time to tell us the story you would have thought of before 'debriefing' her in time."

Alex accepted the explanation. There were a few moments of silence before Mrs. Jones spoke," So what did you think of her, Alex?"

"Honestly?" he asked. "She seemed a bit - erratic. Don't you think so, too?"

Blunt and Jones had to admit this was true. Alex continued, "And she seemed to be a little too absent-minded. In her file, it was mentioned that she does this 'rarely compared to other students.' Heaven forbid that I meet the other girls from Bennett's Academy for Young Ladies."

"She did seem a little far off," Mrs. Jones said, "but at Brecon Beacons she'll learn not to do it too often. Anything else, Alex?"

The boy thought for a moment. "Just one thing. Is it just me, or does she smile like that all the time?"

* * *

Two hours later, Alex had concluded that Sapphire Carlie Thompson was the most deluded soul on the face of the planet. He had spent the whole time at Starbucks listening to her chatter about her achievements, her talents, her lack of a love life (which wasn't really surprising, considering, due her personality - if it could even be called that - looks were all she had, and she _definitely_ didn't know how apply makeup - well, that is), favorite fashion brands, hairstyles, shoes, how shopping was her life, how she adored Tennyson (anyone can adore Tennyson, Alex thought, but one doesn't spend _half an hour_ talking about him!), et cetera.

Honestly, the only thing he had actually enjoyed was the hot chocolate he'd ordered. And the knowledge that Sapphire Carlie Thompson would be absolutely silenced at Brecon Beacons didn't hurt either.


	6. Chapter 6

Sapphire put her copy of _Marked_ down. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get Alex Rider out of her head. He was her new partner. He was (apparently) a very skilled fighter. And, most importantly, he was gorgeous. But he was hiding something.

At first, Alex had seemed perfectly charming, smart, and handsome. He was sweet and humorously sarcastic. They had even talked about that terrorist group, the Illuminati, for a bit. Alex had found the name of the group particularly hilarious, muttering, "Angels and demons" and "Dan Brown" from time to time.

And that wasn't the half of it. Those deep, soulful brown eyes were quiet, but they held something dangerous inside them. Something told Sapphire that while Alex was a perfect gentlemen, he could mutilate and destroy his enemies.

This, Sapphire had decided, was a good thing. A very good thing. Because, honestly, if she was miraculously attacked by a terrorist or a murderer or a rapist (God forbid a pedophile!), Alex would definitely come in handy. He'd also be useful in showing her around Brecon Beacons and Brookland Comprehensive.

And, of course, he'd add more beauty and hope to the desolate, gray landscape of her life. He would brighten the black and white atmosphere. Music would sound sweet again. Her happiness would shine; everyone who looked at her would see her joy, dazzling enough to blind...

But she and Alex had a _long_ way to go before that happened. Unfortunately. Sapphire wasn't particularly worried about it. She took out her diary and began writing in her heavy, loopy script:

 _Dear Diary,_

 _It turns out Mum and Dad weren't accountants after all..._

No. She put the pen down. Sapphire didn't want to write about her dead parents. They were passé. What she really wanted to write about was... Alex; his tousled blonde hair, those deep brown eyes, that perfect, muscular body wrapped around hers...

She immediately slammed the cover of the leather-bound diary down. Stupid Alex. Why must she spend every moment thinking about him? He wasn't _that_ perfect...

On second thought, he was.

"There's only one solution to a problem like this," Sapphire murmured. "Reference from romance novels."

And she promptly pulled out her copy of _The Awakening_ by L. J. Smith. She had a feeling that Elena's expertise would help. A lot.

* * *

"Alex, are you sure you have everything?" Jack Starbright asked. Her brown eyes, much lighter than those of her companion's were wide with concern. "You know what could happen if you were missing those gadgets Smithers gives you..."

"Jack, I'm all set," Alex reassured her. "I made sure I have everything. Four times."

"The gadgets are safe, aren't they? In a small pocket? Small pockets aren't as noticeable as the large ones, and you know how someone could steal your phone. Oh, and the detonators of those bombs - you have them, right? And they're kept away from the bombs? And all your clean underwear? Because if you wear dirty underwear, you could get rashes all over your -"

"Jack." Alex walked over to the red-haired woman and put an arm around her. With his other hand, he gently stroked her hair. Jack was such a worrier. He remained silent for some time as Jack snuggled against his chest. "I won't die, Jack. Promise. And besides, I have a partner now -"

"Who is he?" Jack interrupted. "Is he any good? Oh, it's Ben Daniels, isn't it? He'll look after you, I'm sure he will -" Alex had neglected to tell her that he was ranked above Ben, "-You'll be alright -"

Alex coughed, silencing her monologue. "What?" Jack asked.

"Erm, I actually have a girl for my partner..."

"Oh. Oh! Is she pretty?"

"No."

"Oh, come on Alex," Jack mock-scolded. "You don't have to be so vague with _me,_ of all people. More details, please. Don't leave anything out."

"Alright, then. She's an utter idiot, wears too much makeup, overly concerned with fashion, and looks up most of her problems in _romance novels_." The last two words were uttered in the one would say 'semen-filled donuts' or 'four year old toenail collection'. "Don't even get me stared on the Tennyson. The damn Tennyson. I mean, he's good and all that, but enough is enough. And the flowers. The bloody flowers, the same pale pink as the lip gloss -"

"Um, okay," Jack interrupted, looking faintly disturbed. "No more. Okay. She's not pretty. She's that stupid version of Regina George - Karen, right?"

Alex looked at her blankly. "Who is Regina George?"

"Oh, come on, Alex, who hasn't heard of _Regina George_? She's in Mean Girls, one of the funniest movies of all time!"

"Well, I haven't seen this 'funniest movie of all time'."

"We'll see it together, then, after your little setup," Jack declared.

" _Jack!"_ Alex cringed. "That makes me sound like a - a-"

"Pimp testing out a prostitute? Yes, yes it does," the redhead said smugly.

"God, Jack... Don't start quoting Phineas and Ferb now, _for the love of all that is holy_ -"

"What, so you know Phineas and Ferb, but you don't know Mean Girls? 'Tis tragic, dear Alex, so tragic... Ooh, sounded a bit like Shakespeare, didn't I?"

"... Have you even read Shakespeare?"

"Excuse me?!"

* * *

 _Dear Diary,_

 _Guess what? I'm a spy for MI6! It's so amazing and_ _exhilarating, that James Bond might exist!_

 _Speaking of 007 (there's no '00' in real life - lame), I met the CUTEST boy today. Alex Rider, his name was, and he's SOO handsome... Oh, Diary, I think I'm in love; just to see if it's true love, I read 'Awakened' again, and it's definitely the real thing. I can't live without him already. He's so beautiful, with those soulful brown eyes, that angelic blonde hair, those perfect cheekbones... Not to mention his body._

 _Oh, Lord, his body..._

 _I need to be there for him, Diary. I need to be there to catch him when he falls, to comfort him, and he can comfort me in return, just like Ana does to Christian. I can't stop thinking about him. I need him, Diary, I really do._

 _I'm in love, for the first time in my life. I just hope my heart won't get broken, Diary, don't you?_

 _Sapphire_

The words were inscribed in sparkly, blue pen. Sapphire was staring at her walls, fantasising about Alex. All her work was done. All that packing, researching, theorising... Done.

Sapphire sighed happily. She couldn't wait for morning to come.


	7. Chapter 7

Sapphire was having the worst morning of her life. First, after she'd triple-checked her bags to make sure she'd packed all of her romance novels, she discovered that she hadn't packed _The Awakening_ or her diary. Stupid mistake, really.

Second, there was the issue of finding a proper look for herself, which she was dealing with then. "Sophisticated, practical, but a little hint of sassy," she lectured herself. White, long-sleeved button-up with a gray pencil skirt? No, that was too much like Blunt - she thought about black, but that brought Jones into mind; the woman, who wasn't as horrid as Blunt, was still quite irritating, so, in the end, Sapphire decided on a navy blue pencil skirt (serious, but not in abundance), only to realize she didn't have one.

God, could her day get even worse? It didn't seem possible.

Third problem, but _definitely_ not least: makeup. Sapphire just couldn't find that beautiful pink lipstick from the previous day, but she decided not to trouble herself; most boys didn't like girls to wear the same makeup all the time, and while Alex was one of the only charming _and_ attractive gentlemen left, he certainly wasn't as unique as she was. What a pity.

Finally having decided on a navy blue suit (at least she had _something_ navy blue), Sapphire decided to go with foundation a shade lighter than her skin tone to complement the dark plum lipstick she had chosen. She chose a gray smokey eye.

All in all, she looked fit. Very, very fit.

Alex Rider had better be prepared to be gobsmacked.

* * *

Alex checked his watch. It was 8:30. The car should have reached there by then. Assuming that either was a mundane problem, such as traffic or a flat tire, or a car chase as an alternative, he reached inside his backpack and pulled out a simple file. The file held a few details which determined the course which Sapphire would be taking.

Alex may not have been actually working for MI6, but he did know that spies should have certain qualities - bravery, ingenuity, intelligence, adaptation, and the ability to blend in.

Sapphire only displayed adaptation (accepting her parents' death without too many emotional breakdowns) and bravery by readily agreeing to become a spy, though Alex suspected that the girl didn't know what she was getting herself into. It certainly seemed like it.

The girl was sorely lacking in imagination - well, unless unicorns and romance were counted, which they weren't. And intelligence. Good God, the intelligence. Alex sighed. He'd have to set up a few exercises for her at Brecon Beacons.

The problem that mostly concerned Alex was Sapphire's need to _stand out in a crowd._ The girl couldn't bear it if she wasn't the center of attention, though she pretended otherwise.

At Starbucks, when the waitress simply smiled at him, Sapphire had visibly bristled, but when the woman had turned to her, she was perfectly charming - her only fault was the smile, which came on a bit too strong; a bit like a rabid dog's barred teeth, really.

When the waitress had left, Sapphire had informed him, "I hate it when people stare at me," even though the statement was obviously untrue. At the time, Alex wondered if she was joking or if the she was really that dim; now he was leaning towards the latter, needless to say.

Sighing once more, he opened the file. MI6 had supplied it to him. It had arrived in the mail that morning. Jack had given it to him; she clearly disapproved of the file as her lips had been pressed into a thin line. She had probably thought it was another dangerous mission - a _real_ one.

 _December 21st/12:30/Lunch break: Agents Daniels and Moore scheduled to arrive and impersonate Illuminati agents. Conversation to be overheard in library (Realistic Fiction, A-D)._

 _December 21st/1:15/Fifth period: Lesson to be bunked. Clues found in abandoned locker 33 (sacred number of Freemasons) in the form of Post Its. Connection b/w Illuminati and Freemason society MUST BE FOUND._

 _Instructions for Alex Rider: Direct Sapphire (S) towards clues. Must find some Post Its independently. Confirm that S will be in library on 12/21/15 and that S will be in hallway on same day. Prepare a list of "suspects". EVALUATE._

 _AGENTS WILL BE DEBRIEFED AFTER BRECON BEACONS TRAINING._

Alex blinked and read the file again. It seemed fairly simple compared to other missions.

Then again, it seemed like the girl couldn't even accomplish this much, so that was probably a good thing.

He closed the file and put it inside his bag.

"Alex!" Jack called. "Your ride is here!"

Time to face the demon.

* * *

 **AN: Okay, this is probably my first and only Author's Note in this story. I'm writing to say that I have abandoned this piece of trash.**

 **I'm not a very good writer, and I'm not going to pretend to be, but my horrid writing is certainly not the only reason I'm quitting writing - and reading - fanfiction.**

 **I've grown tired of reading it, truthfully, and it's a little embarrassing to admit, but I've grown kind of addicted to fanfiction. Literally. I cannot stop thinking about it. When I'm at school, I think up random situations like Harry Potter and Ginny Weasely in a Muggle hospital and Ginny being really, really curious, and Harry freaking out, wondering, "What will she do when she hears about surgery?"**

 **So, yeah. Embarrassing. I'd really like to focus on school right now, and fanfiction is distracting me from it. Also, I don't really do much other than read fanfiction, homework, or answer my e-mails.**

 **I'd really like to change that, so, for my own good, I'm going cold turkey.**

 **Sorry, and goodbye to the people who actually read the story (and this note).**


End file.
